Scenes from the Future
by MALar
Summary: A few short glimpses of some of the main characters at various points in the future.


Disclaimer: I make no claim to ownership of anything related to Farscape. The show, its characters and all related material are owned by Henson, SciFi and various other people with no connection to me.   
  
Summary: A series of vignettes visiting some of the main characters at various points in the future. Each segment is in a different style and varies from light fluff at some points to somewhat less fluffy material at others.   
  
Archiving: Please email me first.   
  
Feedback: Please.   
  
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Shipscat for reading this in segments and for the use of a certain name from her fic, Traveler's Song, which is currently being posted in parts to the SciFi Channel's Farscape Bulletin Board and which, having read the whole thing, I *highly* recommend.   
  
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Time: 700 cycles from now   
Place: The Great Temple of the Goddess, Delvia   
  
Pa'u Lo'ral Tuzan waited quietly before the entrance to the inner sanctum. In spite of all his training, he was terrified. Having just been elevated to the second level at a mere 70 cycles of age, he was considered something of a prodigy. He reasoned that this was probably why he had been granted this audience. Only one other living Pa'u had attained the second level this early, and to Loral's considerable anxiety, she was the person waiting for him on the other side of the door.   
  
Pa'u Zotoh Zhaan was the spiritual leader of the Delvian people, although in recent cycles her role had become mostly ceremonial. It was rare for her to grant audiences these days, especially to someone of Tuzan's rank. The fact the she had specifically asked to see him had been a source of terror for him since he had first learned of it a weeken earlier.   
  
Everyone knew the stories about Zhaan. After the Great Liberation over 600 cycles ago, she had been the prime force in the reshaping of Delvia. To Tuzan, it seemed natural that his people ventured freely among the stars sharing their wisdom and knowledge. He knew that it had not always been so. Before the Peacekeeper occupation, the Delvians were a reclusive society, their spiritual pursuits having made them insular. It was Zhaan who had instigated the changes.   
  
Tuzan knew that her experiences on the Leviathan Moya, first as a prisoner and then as a fugitive, had changed her. She had faced and conquered the madness all Delvians feared, one of only a handful ever to accomplish this. She had lived with and befriended an odd collection of aliens and had even shared unity with one of them. It was through her acquaintance with Rygel the Great that the Peacekeepers had finally been expelled and the alliance with the Hynerian Empire forged. All these things were common knowledge, but they hardly prepared one to meet the great Zhaan in person.   
  
As these thoughts raced through Tuzan's mind, an acolyte came out to bid him entrance. *Acolyte. That's a joke*, he thought. The man before him was at least a tenth level Pa'u.   
  
"Pa'u Zhaan will see you now."   
  
"Thank you."   
  
He took one deep breath, steadied his nerves and entered the chamber. Halfway between the entrance and the altar of the Goddess sat a regal looking Delvian woman on an ornate chair. Unlike some species, Delvians aged in subtle ways. An alien might not have known, but Tuzan realized immediately that the woman before him was ancient. Of course, he had already known that Zhann was over 1500 cycles old, but never having seen anyone of such an advanced age, he was still taken aback.   
  
"What's the matter boy? Afraid I'll drop dead while you're here?"   
  
It was then that he realized that he had simply been standing and staring at her for a few dozen microts. He started walking toward Zhaan, worried that he had already made a fool of himself. However, as he approached her, he saw amusement on her face, not irritation.   
  
"Don't worry Tuzan. I know this is a momentous occasion for you. You'll pardon me if I don't share your enthusiasm. Being a cultural icon loses its charm after a few centuries.   
  
"So, you must be wondering why I called you here."   
  
"Yes, Pa'u Zhaan. I am quite curious."   
  
"I've decided that you are going to the Hynerian court as chief aide to our Ambassador."   
  
"Pa'u Zhaan, I can't possibly do that!" The words were out before he had even realized what he had said and to whom. The best course of action now was just to be quiet.   
  
"I know that you don't want to interrupt your studies or lose your focus on the Seek. I also know that you would normally be considered too young to undertake such a responsibility. That is exactly why I have chosen you, Tuzan. Our people need leaders who have seen something of the greater universe. You may hold a position of importance someday, and I want to make sure that you develop some perspective while you're still young. Too many of my advisors are fools who know nothing beyond their prayers. I would not wish that on my successors.   
  
"My own education in these matters happened fairly late in life. No doubt you've heard the stories about Moya. I suspect the version that circulates now casts me as a great teacher and leader guiding a group of wayward aliens. That's not exactly what happened. I learned more from them in a few cycles than I can begin to explain. They're all gone now, but they will always be in my thoughts.   
  
"It was little more than a brief moment out of a very long life, Tuzan, but I cherish that time and the memory of those with whom I spent it. Do you want to know the most important thing I learned from my companions back then? It's something that has remained with me throughout my life."   
  
"Of course, Pa'u Zhaan." He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Zhaan had learned anything from some aliens. Like nearly all his people, Tuzan possessed an instinctive sense of superiority when it came to offworlders.   
  
"I learned that life must be lived. It's not enough to hide in a temple and pray. Let your spirituality be the center of your existence, but not the whole of it. I learned that there is more to life than the Seek, Tuzan."   
  
Tuzan was shocked. This was outright blasphemy, and he would have said so had he been facing anyone else. The most he could do now was lower his eyes and hope that his outrage didn't show.   
  
Zhaan became quiet for a few moments, and Tuzan feared that she had simply forgotten about him. Eventually, she looked back at him and said, "Go on. Get ready for your new adventure. I know you won't appreciate or understand any of this now, but with any luck you'll thank me one day."   
  
What could he do? He bowed, left quietly and began readying his mind for the enormous change his life was about to undergo.   
  
Just as he was about to leave the chamber, Tuzan looked back to see Zhaan staring off into the distance. Perhaps she was thinking about her long dead friends on Moya.   
  
---------------------   
  
Time: 100 Cycles from now   
Place: Royal Palace, Hyneria   
  
I, Bilal, Servant and Secretary to His Eminence, Rygel XVI, and Chief Scribe of the Royal Hynerian Court, hereby resume the Great Chronicle of the Dominars in the manner prescribed by the traditions of our people. May the Ancient Gods smile upon my efforts as they have smiled on His Eminence and his Glorious Predecessors.   
  
Now having said that, I, Bilal, overworked, underpaid civil servant with better things to do, drop the pompous attitude. It's not as if anyone reads this dren anyway. If you are reading this sometime in my future and are offended by my tone, I have only one thing to say in response. Frell you! I'm old already. What are you going to do? Bring me back to life and kill me again? Ha!   
  
Anyway, today has been much like any other day for the insufferable windbags who comprise the Royal Court. Things have finally started to calm down after the excitement of a few weekens ago, and it's back to business as usual.   
  
I suppose I should mention all that. This may not be a real history, but I am nothing if not complete, and I have been a little negligent in my duties recently. The truth is, I've been a little drunk recently, probably like most of the rest of the Empire. I'm getting ahead of myself again.   
  
As anyone with any sense will have realized by now, the great event I'm referring to is the treaty. "What treaty?" you future readers may ask. Don't they frelling teach you anything in school anymore? THE TREATY. The one brokered by His Eminence and outlining the surrender of the remaining Peacekeeper-Nebari fleet to the Alliance. Nearly two hundred cycles of conflict, finally ended.   
  
I must admit that looking back on things, I would never have expected this from His Eminence. I knew him when he was a child, and he was little better than the rest of them. Certainly his first reign was notable only for its lack of significance. Who would have expected such a drastic change after his reinstatement? I can only assume that a few dozen cycles of captivity left its mark. Then there were the few cycles he spent with those fugitives, but I can't imagine what impact that could have had. Unlike the days of imprisonment, he rarely mentions that time. Although I gather he looks back on his days on the Leviathan, Mayo I believe she was called, with a certain degree of fondness.   
  
Whatever made him what he is, there is no denying that he is the least incompetent ruler we have had since Rygel the Great. I know I'm being a little unfair, but I still have trouble reconciling the idiot child I knew with the Dominar I now serve. History will no doubt remember him as one of the great forces for change in the galaxy. That's for historians to worry about, not me. So let me resume my task of recounting the memorable events of this day.   
  
In short, there weren't any, unless you count the visit from that Sebacean woman. She's a strange character, tall, dark-haired, and with those strange blue eyes. She visits the Dominar a few times a cycle and is occasionally accompanied by her mate and offspring. I gather she's quite attractive for her species, but they all look ridiculous to me. I like her though. She always seems to have a kind word for everyone and that indelible grin on her face. Although I strongly suspect it would be a mistake to cross her. I don't really understand the exact nature of her relationship with His Eminence, but I gather he knew her parents. That's an interesting subject in itself. It seems that one of her parents, I don't know which one, wasn't actually a Sebacean. I find that hard to believe, since she looks completely Sebacean to me. Either way, she is the least insufferable of the regular visitors to the Court, and that in itself is noteworthy. Now if she would only stop calling the Dominar "Uncle Rygel". She does it at the most inopportune moments.   
  
Speaking of female, alien visitors, those other two were here for the great celebration in honor of the treaty. The Nebari is a representative of her government in exile. She is quite the negotiator when it comes to official matters, but her behavior with His Eminence is intolerable. At least it is to the rest of the Court. I take a perverse pleasure in it. More than once, she has used what I can only assume are unflattering terms when addressing him. She usually manages to restrain herself during public occasions, but in less formal settings, she treats him like an unruly child. Oddly, he lets her. Any Hynerian who spoke to him that way would soon find themselves in less than comfortable accommodations.   
  
Then there's the Delvian. I don't like Delvians on general principle. Most of them make the Hynerian nobility seem lively in comparison. This one is a little different and not nearly as supercilious as most of her kind. She seems to have a genuine affection for the Dominar, and he for her, somewhat like the Nebari, but different somehow. I can't really say that I like her. That ever-present serene expression just makes my skin crawl. In fact, I think I have only seen her lose her composure once.   
  
About a cycle ago, the Royal Shipyards were nearing completion of the first in a new class of ships capable of wormhole travel. Come to think of it, the Sebacean woman was around much more than usual during that period. Apparently, she is some sort of expert on something related to those ships. I don't know much about that, not being a technical person myself. Anyway, His Eminence had planned to name the prototype after himself. I, and I'm sure the rest of the Empire, couldn't have cared less, but the Court was appalled by the break with tradition. Eventually he relented, and decided to name the thing something utterly meaningless, probably out of spite.   
  
So what, you may ask, does this have to do with the Delvian? She was here at the time, and the Dominar wanted to show off his new ship. Guess who was assigned as tour guide. She seemed mildly impressed in that Delvian way of hers, but never lost that frelling look. She asked the name of the ship, and I mentioned the Dominar's disagreement with his advisors by way of explanation. It was then that I saw one of the stranger sights of my life. When I told her the name, she nearly doubled over and collapsed from laughter.   
  
What the frell is so funny about "Buckwheat"?   
  
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Time: 100 Cycles from now   
Place: A sparsely populated planet in the Uncharted Territories   
  
Leaning carelessly against the wooden rail of the small animal drawn cart, the traveler looked out onto the bleak landscape as it slowly passed by. It was a cumbersome mode of transport, but ideally suited to the land and its inhabitants. The people who lived here were a curious lot, hard working farmers who had managed to beat a small patch of this planet into submission and who were as subdued and humorless as their surroundings. He could think of no better home for the man he was going to meet.   
  
For the hundredth time in the past few days he wondered why he was doing this. Was there really anything to be gained? Perhaps he was already too late. Then again, maybe not and maybe something positive would come of a final meeting with ... him. Even now and even in his own mind it was an effort to think of him as a father rather than as a stranger.   
  
He knew that he had no one to blame for his childhood, but he also knew with certainty that he did blame someone. He blamed his father, not only for leaving him but for the arrogance, the presumption of bringing a creature like him into the universe. His mother was exempt from these feelings. An early death had provided her with a shield against a small child's anger. His father had no such protection, and over time an unfocused confusion and rage had turned to bitter hatred. He knew now that these feelings had been largely irrational, but they had been a constant companion, his only one, when he needed them the most. Even now after so many cycles, they were still with him after a fashion.   
  
He thought back to their first meeting. It had not gone as his father had obviously expected. His father and some companions had come to rescue him from ... from what? His life? It was the only life he had known for as long as he could remember. The adjustment to a new one had not been easy. He had tried, but he had never been able to get past the awkwardness he always felt around them.   
  
The Sebacean and the other one, the one who later became her mate, they were the least objectionable of the lot. Most of the others he easily avoided, except for that Nebari whore who had tried playing mother to him for a short time. His relationship with his father was the most strained of all. Looking back on things from the perspective of many cycles and with a family of his own, he now realized that his father knew as much about being a father as he had known about being a son. "Tell that to an angry child," he thought.   
  
Over time, the discomfort he felt around his father had become an everyday feature of their relationship, and the rage that had built up in his early years always lay just below the surface. They barely spoke in more than monosyllables and only when necessary. When he was old enough, he left. He felt no regrets, only relief.   
  
They had been in touch a few times since then, but this last message was different. His father was dying, and he wanted to see his son one last time to try and make amends. So here he was, in the middle of nowhere.   
  
His musings were suddenly interrupted by a jolt. The cart had stopped. He looked around and found himself in the middle of a tiny village. He paid the driver and began to wander through the main street, aware as always of the curious stares of passersby. He stopped someone and asked how he could find a Luxan named Ka D'Argo. The answer he received was almost the one he had expected. His father had died two nights earlier and had been buried the previous day. The stranger pointed out the small village cemetery, and the traveler made his way towards it.   
  
He came upon an old man standing next to a recent grave. As he approached, the man noticed him.   
  
"Greetings...uh...Luxan."   
  
He ignored the usual look of confusion at his strange features.   
  
"My name is Makil," the old man said, offering his hand. The traveler took it and said, "Jothee."   
  
The old man looked back towards the grave and said "A great man, and a terrible loss to us. How did you know Ka D'Argo?"   
  
Jothee looked at the grave for a moment, turned to the old man with a neutral expression on his face and said, "I didn't." He turned around and went looking for the cart driver.   
  
-----------------   
  
Time: 8 years from now   
Place: IASA Headquarters, Florida, USA, Earth   
  
*Oh hell, not again,* thought Susan Brock. She put her head in her hands and looked toward the inner office door. How was she supposed get any work done with that going on just 15 feet from her desk.   
  
From beyond the door, she could hear the familiar sounds of animated bickering. There were two voices. The first was English with a barely perceptible Southern drawl that became more pronounced as the speaker became more agitated. That would be Dr. Crichton. The second sounded like it would be more at home in the Kalahari ... or maybe Mars. That was Mrs. Crichton. She always reverted to her native language, whatever that was, when they got into these little arguments. Dr. Crichton seemed to understand it, even though he always responded in English.   
  
Susan had been working at IASA for nearly three years now. She had been lucky to get the job right out of college. At first, she'd been assigned fairly menial tasks, but she had worked hard to prove herself and about four months ago had become Dr. Crichton's administrative assistant on the Farscape 2 project. Barely 24, she found herself responsible for the day to day dispensation of a budget that beggared belief. She had worked on other projects at IASA and often wondered how Dr. Crichton could have obtained such a huge share of the overall budget. That, like a lot of things about which she was curious, was classified well above her level.   
  
One of the many things Susan didn't quite understand was Mrs. Crichton's role at IASA. She didn't have any official title, but her security badge indicated a security clearance as high as her husband's. She had her own office and was often in meetings with high ranking military types. She seemed more at home with them than she did with most of the civilian employees. Luckily for Susan, Mrs. Crichton had taken a liking to her early on. She even insisted that Susan call her Aeryn, just as her husband preferred John to Dr. Crichton. That was a far cry from her last boss, Mr. Formality, as she liked to call him.   
  
She really liked the Crichtons, and although John liked everyone, Susan was truly grateful that Aeryn liked or even tolerated her. It was a well known fact that you didn't want to get on her bad side and that it was all too easy to do just that. Susan thought back to the incident with that Marine Lieutenant a couple of weeks ago. A little too full of himself, and not knowing who she was, he had propositioned Aeryn. *I wonder if he's back on solid foods yet.*   
  
Aeryn occasionally stopped by Susan's desk to chat for a few minutes on the way to her husbands office. She had a lovely accent that Susan had often tried to place. Once, she asked Aeryn about its origins. After a few noncommittal answers, Susan had apparently pushed too far and found herself on the receiving end of a glare that would have frozen Lake Michigan. She didn't know how John could take it.   
  
But that was just it. Even the glares had a different feel when they were directed at him. They seemed to fight constantly, but it was never serious and just seemed to be the way they related to each other. Susan wondered yet again how those two had met. She knew intuitively that they loved each other as deeply, if not more so, than any other couple she had ever known. You just had to watch one of them when the other entered the room. You could just see it in their eyes, and this, she gathered, was after 10 years together.   
  
They had a delightful little girl named Meara. Every once in a while, the 5 year old would accompany mom or dad to work, and sometimes Susan found herself in the role of babysitter, not that she minded. She absolutely adored that little girl. Meara was a miniature copy of her mother but with her father's playfulness and natural way with people. She also had the most active imagination Susan had ever seen in a child. She could go on and on about aliens and life in space and all sorts of crazy things.   
  
Susan suddenly realized that while her mind had been wandering, things had become very quiet. In spite of herself she walked over to the door to Dr. Crichton's office and listened. She heard a low moan, but she wasn't too sure from whom. This was followed by a quiet, throaty laugh. That was definitely Aeryn.   
  
*Oh hell, not again.* How was she supposed to get any work done with THAT going on just 15 feet from her desk.   
  
Susan decided to take an early lunch. It's not as if either of them would mind ... or notice.   



End file.
